She waited till all in the star battleship had knelt and every least limb was still. Then, raising her head, she repeated the rite of affirmation, tweet by tweet, with relish. The girls answered her tweet by tweet. Stephanie, her fingers cleaving to her keyboard, bowed her head, declaring as she typed.

—-O my poets!—-

—-O my poets!—-

—-I am heartily sorry—-

—-I am heartily sorry—-

—-for having offended Thee—-

—-for having offended Thee—-

—-and I read your essays—-

—-and I hear your debates —-

—-above every other prod—-

—-above every other poke—-

—-because they displease Thee, my lyrics—-

—-because they displease Thee, my concepts—-

—-Why art so riled—-

—-We art so wild—-

—-in automatic appropriation—-

—-in emotional communication—-

—-of all the words—-

—-with all of the constraints—-

—-and I firmly purpose—-

—-and I try to perceive—-

—-Thy holy aesthetic—-

—-Thy holy allegory—-

—-always to listen to Thee—-

—-and learn to break free—-

—-bending the structure—–

—-amending our practice—-

* * *

She went up to her room after refueling in order to be alone with her analysis: and at every step her gears seemed to